Sweet December
by beatingoutasamba
Summary: After Kate's worsening PTSD gets her suspended from the precinct, Castle helps her recover. Goes AU after 4x08.
1. Kate

**A/N: **In 1999, my older brother was stationed in Kosovo for six months – while there, he was a scout patrol who searched for enemy snipers. I don't know much beyond that because the details are classified, but I do know that his experiences haunted him. The next year, I watched him dive under a table on July 4th because the fireworks sounded like gunshots. Since then, he has been deployed to the Middle East three times, and every time he comes home, he seems to have acquired yet another anxiety disorder. Because of this, PTSD is a subject that is very near and dear to my heart. I figured I should put my knowledge to good use, and what better way to do that than to write a Caskett story? I wish that they would have developed Kate's PTSD a bit more in season four, so that's what this story is. I've been working on "Sweet December" on and off since October of 2011, and since I joined the Navy four months ago and leave for boot camp in November, I figured it was about time I posted it! I hope you come to love it as much as I do. :)

**Beta-reader:** LittleLizzieZentara

**Disclaimer:** _Castle_ belongs to Andrew Marlowe and ABC Studios, not me.

* * *

_November 29, 2011_

* * *

Beckett slowly chews a bite of mu shu pork, savoring the mixture of spices.

Castle sits in his usual chair. He refuses to go home, choosing sleep deprivation over leaving her alone. It's a sweet gesture, and she enjoys the company. Burning the midnight oil isn't so bad when her partner is there to spin wild theories.

"Come on, Beckett! It makes perfect sense. The victim was a prostitute, she was killed between two and three in the morning, her throat was severed by a knife... Our killer is _totally _Jack the Ripper!"

"And how would that work exactly? Those murders were in 1888."

He looks at her like she's a complete buzz-kill, but then shoots her a smug grin.

"Time travel," he states with a self-satisfied nod.

Her lips curl upward slightly. She loves his outlandish ideas. She'll never, _ever_, tell him this, but they really make her smile on the inside – well, mostly on the inside. She bites her lip hard, willing her actual smile to go away.

"Pass the rice?" she asks, pointing with her chopsticks.

"Sure."

He grabs the open container of traditional white rice, the four corners of the lid folded down, and holds it out for her to take. She doesn't have a firm grasp on it when he lets go and –

"Kate!"

The carton slips from her fingers and drops to the floor before she can react to his warning. She watches as the grains of rice scatter over the hardwood like maggots.

Just one word. That's all it takes to shatter the carefully constructed wall inside her heart. No, not _that _wall. The other wall. The one that keeps those dreadful memories at bay, the one that keeps her from freezing up at the sight of a gun, the one that keeps her standing day after day. One word. One simple, familiar, four letter word.

Kate.

It takes her by surprise, the immediate flood of emotion. That wall exploding to pieces, shards of concrete embedding themselves in her soul.

Maybe it was the way he said it – full of urgency and concern. Now everything is gone. She stares past the rice, stock-still, her mind back in the graveyard, reliving her shooting, hearing him shout her name a mere fraction of a second before the bullet pierces her chest.

She has to get out. Now. Slowly, methodically, she gathers her things, not daring to look at him.

He raises his eyebrows.

"Kate?"

_ Stay with me, Kate. Don't leave me._

"I have to go," she says in a rushed whisper.

She stands up now, purse in hand, and makes the mistake of looking into his eyes. He definitely knows something is wrong.

Don't give him the chance to ask.

Don't show weakness.

"'Night, Castle."

Turning away, she tries not to rush out of the precinct, keep up the ruse that everything is fine. She tries not to cry on the drive home, stay safe on the road. She manages to keep control just long enough to get through the door of her apartment, and then collapses against it, tears flowing freely down her face as she slides to the floor.

_Why?_

_Why do I have to be broken?_

Sobs wrack her body, painful sobs that won't stop.

The darkness closes in on her. The night – usually a comforting force, with the stars and the moon – smothers her. Her entire life is darkness.

She can't breathe. It's as if her lungs have closed off, shielding themselves from her agony. Fire burns in her chest until finally, she forces herself to inhale, gasps for air, but doesn't feel relief. A whimper escapes.

Kate.

She lives in a world where her own name scares her.

_How did this happen?_

With this question, a new wave of despair crashes down on her, cascades of tears streaming from her eyes. She tries to wail, a cry for help to the gods above, but her vocal cords freeze, paralyzed by grief. No sound could possibly be enough to convey her anguish.

The wooden door is a sturdy presence at her back, supporting her, giving her the strength to stand once again. Her hand reaches for the light switch, and when she flips it on, her heart settles just a bit, the yellow glow a source of comfort. Her lighthouse in the stormy sea.

Stumbling towards the kitchen, images blurred by the tears in her eyes, she grabs the nearest bottle of alcohol, nearly dropping it. She desperately needs to be absent from her life.

Objectively, she knows she shouldn't be drinking. Her dad was an alcoholic; she knows exactly where this path can lead. But right now she doesn't care. Right now she just needs the escape and warmth that only a single malt Scotch can provide.

She downs one glass, then fills it again, tightening her grip as she brings it to her lips. One shaky swallow and grimace later, she unholsters her gun and slams it down on the counter, inhales deeply. She doesn't want to be anywhere near a weapon. The tips of her fingers graze the fabric between her breasts, directly above her scar.

Turning around, she meanders to her bedroom, turning on every light she can find. She drinks the remaining droplets of scotch at the bottom of her glass, then sets it on the nightstand, staring blankly at it for what seems like eternity, letting the warmth take over.

Slowly curling up into the fetal position on top of her bed, bathed in artificial light, she closes her eyes. Seven hours of blissful ignorance is just what she needs.

* * *

_ Bitter wind hits Kate's face as she sprints through the alleyways of New York, adrenaline pumps through her veins._

_ The hunter has become the hunted._

_ She looks back over her shoulder, fear flashes across her features, keeps running._

_ He's catching up._

_ She screeches to a halt when she runs into a dead end, a solid brick wall blocking her way to freedom._

_ "You can't escape, Beckett," his voice drawls from behind her._

_ Turning around to face him, her heart lurches in her chest when she sees the gun aimed at her head. Her eyes focus on his index finger; it hovers just above the trigger, ready to end her life with a split-second change of pressure._

_ He walks forward and she steps back, almost a choreographed dance. She hits the cold brick and she's trapped. The sniper advances the rest of the way and presses the gun to her forehead. She can't move, debilitated by fear._

_ "It's nothing personal," he says, almost apologetically_

_ Then a sense of clarity overtakes her. This is the end and she's okay with that. What is she really fighting for anyway? The entire world falls away, leaving nothing but Kate, her tormentor, and a black void. There's nothing left._

_ Peace envelops her and she smiles._

_ Then he pulls the trigger and the lights go out for good._

* * *

Kate shoots straight up, breathing heavily, eyes wild with terror. She frantically looks around, gets her bearings. Home. Safe. Alive. She brings her knees to her chest and screws her eyes shut.

That dream... She could have sworn it was real. Every last detail – the fear, the winter cold, the gun. She shudders. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. The mantra repeats in her head until she believes it.

She looks at the clock on her nightstand through the clear crystal of her glass, the numbers distorted. 12:43 am. It hasn't even been an hour. She touches a finger to her forehead, ghosting over the memories of her nightmare. A tear slips down her cheek unexpectedly.

She gave up and that shakes her to the core. In the end, she actually _welcomed _death. Dying in her dream was peaceful, perfect. Waking up in her chilly room was like being yanked out of Heaven.

_If I slit my wrists right now, would I be missed?_

Her hazel eyes glisten with more tears and her face contorts with fear.

She doesn't want to die.

And with that, a new bout of sobs devastate her slender frame. Kate has never had a single suicidal thought, until now. The idea that she would consider taking her own life, that she would consider slitting her wrists and leaving everybody who cares about her behind – brief as it may have been, that thought existed. It's gone now, but the fact that it was even there to begin with, the fact that her mind is capable of creating such a dark place in her subconscious... It scares her more than anything that's ever been thrown at her before. She bites her jean-clad knee in an attempt to muffle her cries, wipes the cold sweat from her brow with the back of her long sleeve.

All of the sudden, every single light disappears, her room engulfed by black.

Kate looks up in surprise and her eyes adjust to the shadows. Panic fills her heart.

This is how it starts. They shut off the power so you can't call for help and then they lock you in and blow your brains out with an SR-25 Mk 11 sniper rifle.

He's after her again, about to finish what he started six months ago.

Her hand immediately goes for her gun, but it's not in the holster at her hip like it should be. She blindly pats around the bed, thinking it fell out onto the comforter, but it's nowhere to be found. Then she remembers where she left it.

She glances nervously at the door leading to the hallway that leads to her kitchen, takes a shallow breath. Should she make a run for it?

The apartment is dead silent; maybe he isn't inside yet.

Kate slides her heels off, leaves them on the bed, and cautiously steps onto the floor. She walks on tiptoes to the doorway and peeks her head around the corner, blinking a strand of hair out of her eye.

Then she bolts, sprints to the kitchen as quickly and as quietly as she can. Her gun is there. She can see its shadow on the counter. She snatches it up in her hands, cocks it, aims it toward the front door.

Backing away slowly, she retreats to her room, her safe haven, still keeping a look out for the sniper, who no doubt planned this power outage so that he could kill her. When he comes for her, she's going to be ready this time.

She clicks the door closed behind her, then rushes to her window and closes the blinds, blocking out the city lights. Her heart pounds in her chest, eyes struggling to adjust to the oppressing dark.

The cold floor sends shivers up her spine as she walks to her bed and pulls back the covers. Climbing underneath fully-clothed, she hides in the warmth of her cotton sheets, holding her gun close to her chest with one hand and clenching her thigh with the other.

A creak in the floor boards startles her and her whole body tenses, anticipating the worst. But then nothing happens.

A tear slips from her eyes and stains the pillowcase below her head.

There's no sniper. There never was. It's a power outage, nothing more.

But she still can't bring herself to accept it. The little voice in the back of her mind tells her to stay alert.

Something crashes to the floor in the apartment above, setting her even more on edge. She holds her gun tighter, brings the sheets up to her chin, cowering beneath them.

Kate hates that she's reacting like this; all of her control is gone. Her heart tells her that the sniper is outside of her door at this very moment, but her brain tells her to stop being stupid. A war is waging within her, and it's exhausting.

_ What if I never recover?_

More and more tears fall, no hope on the horizon. There's not even a horizon – just eternal night.

Castle would say to be hopeful; there's always a tomorrow. But it's easy to talk about hope; it's much harder to experience it.

Using the sheet to wipe away some of her tears, she wishes he was here with her. He's a source of comfort at work and would know exactly what to do, what to say. Even just looking into his eyes would be enough to keep her grounded.

She shouldn't have run away. She should have stayed with him, but it's too late now.

Having an active imagination can be a curse at times, creating worst case scenarios for every situation, but it can also be a blessing. As his strong arms wrap around her midsection, she melts into his touch, feeling it as if he were actually there.

She takes a shaky breath and focuses all of her efforts on creating the dream.

_"You're gonna be okay, Kate," _he murmurs into her ear. _"Nobody can hurt you now."_

Starting to relax, her grip loosens on her gun.

He brushes her hair behind her ear and presses a kiss to her temple.

_"I'm never leaving-"_

A distant siren interrupts her thoughts, that persistent fear returning to its resting place in her bones. It reminds her of that fateful day, reminds her of the ambulance that took her to the hospital when she was in and out of consciousness. The searing pain...

She lies completely awake now, a tiny ball underneath her thick comforter, eyes wide open, cold and alone.

Petrified.

Thinking back to when she was a little girl, she remembers being scared of the monster under her bed.

_What if the sniper is under there?_

* * *

**A/N: **I have the next two chapters written and will be posting the next one soon. All chapters will be posted by November 12th.

_You can follow me on Twitter at MissRainbowPie._


	2. Numb

**A/N: **Just to warn you, the last section of this chapter contains some strong language.

* * *

_November 30, 2011_

* * *

When Kate's alarm automatically goes off at 6:30 am, she's ready for it. More than ready, in fact; she's been waiting for it.

After wondering if the sniper was lying in wait under her bed, she couldn't get the thought out of her mind. Eventually, she just had to know – she threw off the covers, nimbly jumped to the floor, crouched down, and swiftly aimed her gun under the bed. A draft blew a dust bunny in her direction and she almost shot it to smithereens.

Sometime after that, she was finally able to calm herself down. She opened her blinds again, let the city lights back in, and then curled up under the covers, still fully clothed, staring at the sparkling skyscrapers in the distance. But no matter how soothing the sight was, she still couldn't fall asleep.

Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours, and now she's here, watching the sky get progressively lighter, listening to the steady _beep-beep-beep_ of her alarm.

After a moment, she gently presses the off button, grateful for having a reason to get up.

The sun isn't up yet – sunrise isn't for another twenty-nine minutes – but the sky is the calming grayish blue of a new dawn, with just a hint of pink and yellow peeking up over the horizon.

It's like she's seeing it from the wrong side. Getting up early to see the sunrise is fun, romantic. Staying up all night and seeing it through an emotionally drained haze... Not fun. Not romantic. And despite the light pastel colors, she can't bring herself to see its beauty. It's an untamed force of nature and she has had just about enough of untamed for one night.

What she needs is procedure and order.

So Kate slides out of bed and sets her feet on the floor, ready to start a new day.

While making her bed, she sees the evidence left over from her terrible night. Her sheet and pillow both have streaked black stains from her mascara, her gun is on the nightstand, her heels are discarded at the edge of the comforter. She pushes past these images, not letting herself dwell, cutting herself off from emotions.

All she has to do is get through the day. That doesn't mean she has to deal with it.

Sluggishly walking to her bathroom, she flips the light switch by the sink and is almost blinded by light.

Apparently the power is back on. She observes this fact, but doesn't analyze it. She's closing her mind – thinking about nothing more than her routine.

Kate then strips naked and steps into her shower, lets the almost-too-hot spray wash away the painful indentations left on her skin from sleeping in her work clothes.

Scars from last night's battle.

_Observe, don't analyze._

She absentmindedly shampoos, conditions, and rinses her hair, lets the soft locks flow through her fingers. It feels good. Grabbing the bar of soap, she runs it over her skin, then stands under the water, watching the bubbles go down the drain.

She sinks to the porcelain floor, draws her knees to her chest, closes her eyes against the harsh torrent of water. She can't feel anything. Physically, she's tired and exhausted, but inside she's detached.

Numb.

Sitting there for a few eternally long minutes, she watches the lights dance inside her eyelids.

_Today will be better._

* * *

Castle sits in Kate's chair, vacantly staring at the two cups of coffee on her desk. The precinct seems cold and empty without her.

"Yo Castle! Why you here so early?"

He hears Esposito's voice, but doesn't comprehend. He continues to stare at the coffee which is growing colder by the minute.

Something happened the night before, and it wasn't good. Beckett just left without a word of explanation. And that fearful look in her eye... She was so vulnerable. But more importantly, she was scared. Of what, he has no clue. Maybe it was something he said, maybe it was something he did, or maybe it was something completely unrelated. He's been wracking his brain for hours trying to figure out what happened, but every explanation he thinks of just doesn't seem to measure up.

A heavy hand on his shoulder draws him out of his thoughts.

"Castle?"

He looks up to see Esposito grinning down at him.

"What are you trying to do, use The Force?" Esposito asks.

Castle quirks his eyebrow. "What?"

"You've been staring at those coffee cups ever since I walked in."

"Oh..."

"Well whatever you're doing, you should probably do it from your chair. Beckett was right behind me."

That gets Castle's attention. He jumps out of her chair, leaves it spinning in his wake, and eagerly looks around for Kate, but when he finally finds her with his eyes, he almost wishes he hadn't. She looks like death warmed over. As she slowly gets closer to him, he notices more – her attempt to hide the dark circles under her eyes with makeup, her still-damp hair, her wrinkled dress shirt, her skittish walk.

Something is obviously wrong.

He sits in his chair and as she approaches, he catches her eye and shoots her a broad smile. Kate weakly smiles back and sits down next to him. She re-adjusts her seat without a word, then shuffles through a file on her desk.

Castle nudges her coffee towards her and then pulls a Ziploc full of cookies from his bag and sets it directly on top of the file, forcing her to stop. Now she has to interact with him.

"What are those?" she asks.

He gets the feeling that she's just asking that to humor him, that she doesn't actually care, but he'll take it. "Cappuccino Flats! The best Christmas cookies in the history of Christmas cookies. Coffee, chocolate, and yummy deliciousness. Alexis made them for me before she left."

"Cool. Now put them away; I have work to do."

"We. You mean _we _have work to do. And no. I won't move them until you try one."

Kate sighs. "Fine."

She reaches into the bag and grabs the cookie on top. The cookies are dark brown and flat, dipped in melted chocolate at one end. The directions say to dip them about a third of the way into the chocolate, but Castle certainly taught Alexis well, because she ignored that particular direction and dipped them as far in as possible, so only a tiny bit of cookie peeked out of the semi-sweet blanket.

Kate takes a small bite of her cookie and sets the rest of it by her keyboard. Castle watches her to see how she likes the taste, but her expression isn't telling him anything.

_Jesus, what the hell happened to her?_

Coffee always makes her smile. Chocolate sometimes even more so because it's special. But today, when the two are combined, her eyes don't even sparkle.

He loses his self control at this point and just has to ask. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Castle," she says, but the words are empty. She casts her eyes downward and vacantly gazes past the paperwork in front of her.

He decides to take the risk and push a little farther.

"Beckett, what happened last night?"

"Castle, just leave it alone!" she snaps. "I'm fine and nothing happened. Got it?" Kate fixes him with a glare that he's never seen before, her tired eyes fierce.

He stops pushing immediately. "Got it," he says quietly. Castle takes the bag of cookies off of the case file and puts them away.

He avoids looking at her and gives her space while she starts flipping through pages, underlining important information.

After a few minutes, he hears her whisper "Sorry." And just like that, things are good between them once again.

But still he's worried. So he decides to distract her from her troubles by telling her about his.

"Alexis hasn't called yet."

Beckett looks up at him from her paperwork, pen in hand. "What?"

"Alexis has been in Germany for two days with her class and she hasn't called me yet. All I got was a text saying 'here' when she landed. It wasn't even capitalized!"

Kate sets the pen down and turns her chair to face him, finally engaging with him. "I'm sure she's just busy. She'll call soon," she reassures.

"_Or_ she met some muscled German guy named Hans and he swept her off her feet and they got a motel room and-"

"Castle. Breathe. Alexis is a responsible young woman. Unlike you, she'd never get a motel room with a guy named Hans."

"What are you talking about? I wouldn't get a motel room with Hans either! A member of the Swedish Bikini Team, maybe. But never Hans."

Kate laughs at that and he grins. He got her to laugh. Success.

"Are you sure Castle? I hear Hans is the greatest lover in Deutschland. You might learn something." The teasing lilt to her voice is back. "I'm sure Alexis will tell you some of his tricks."

"Oh not cool." His face falls and then he gets a determined look in his eyes. "I'm gonna call her."

He reaches for his phone, but Beckett puts a hand over his to stop him. "I was kidding. She'll call you when she's ready, I promise. But if you call her now, you'll come off looking pathetic. You want to be the cool dad, right?"

"Right." Castle rubs his temple with his fingers. "You're right."

"When are you gonna learn? I'm always right," she smirks.

* * *

Despite the sleep deprivation and terror of the night before, the day is going well. They've caught several new leads in the case, and they finally have some suspects. But Kate can tell that Castle is walking on eggshells around her, as if one wrong word will cause her to snap. And that's probably true, so she can't really blame him, but his tentativeness is setting her on edge. Why does he have to care so much? The way he looks at her now just reminds her that something is wrong. Why can't he just look at her like he always does? Like he can barely contain his love for her, like he wants to French kiss her in the elevator, like he trusts her with his life, like he would wait a thousand years just to hold her hand. Not like she's broken. She's not damaged goods, damn it, and he needs to stop looking at her like she is.

Just then, the elevator dings and Ryan and Esposito emerge with their two prime suspects. One is the victim's brother, a wealthy doctor who was embarrassed by the fact that his sister was a prostitute. The other is her gang-banger ex-boyfriend. The detectives throw them in separate interrogation rooms, then join Castle and Beckett in the bullpen.

"Who do you want?" Ryan asks, leaning against his desk with one hand.

"The ex. You guys take the brother," Kate answers.

"Let's do this," Esposito says. He bumps fists with his partner and they charge to the interrogation room, roughly pushing the door open, startling the brother.

"That guy is gonna crack in two seconds. Did you see how pale he was?" Castle asks, far too gleefully for Kate's tastes.

She doesn't answer, but merely stands up and walks toward interrogation room #1, her heels clicking on the hardwood. She doesn't even get three steps before she hears Castle following her, practically breathing down her neck. When she reaches the door, she turns around and stops in front of him.

"Why don't you hang back on this one?" Kate attempts to keep her voice steady, to not give away the fact that he's making things worse for her.

He looks crestfallen. "What- why? I can help!"

And she knows that. She knows that he can help and she knows that he can be surprisingly useful, but it's too much. He's hovering and adding to her stress. She needs to get away. She needs space.

"I got this," she says gently, trying to let him down easy.

"But-"

"Castle, stop arguing and watch from the observation room!"

His eyes widen in shock at her harsh tone and she instantly regrets her words, but before she can apologize, he enters the door to her left, obeying her order.

She breathes a sigh of relief at his absence.

Putting her hand on the cold metal doorknob, she turns it and enters the room with the confidence of a dominatrix, fully embracing her tough cop image.

* * *

"You killed her, Joey!" Beckett yells, slamming her hands down on the table. "You couldn't handle her sleeping with all of her clients, you went into a jealous rage, and you killed her!"

Joey, their victim's angry tattooed Mexican ex-boyfriend, doesn't even bat an eye.

That's disappointing. Time to up the ante.

She circles around to stand behind the suspect. Leaning down, she whispers in his ear. "You know what I think? I think Claire left you for one of her clients because you couldn't satisfy her. Couldn't get it up." It feels good to unload her frustrations onto this piece of work.

"I'm already up for you, sweetie," the slimy jerk sneers.

Beckett pulls his chained necklace back to block his windpipe. "Don't call me 'sweetie'." She releases the chain and he coughs roughly.

She circles back around the table and pulls her chair out, flips it around. Straddles it.

"Oh, _honey_," Joey says, voice dripping with hostility. "You're doing it all wrong."

Her eyebrow quirks up involuntarily and he obviously sees it, lets out a small chuckle.

"You're _interrogating_ me all wrong."

"Really? How should I be interrogating you then?"

"I've always been partial to the subtle art of seduction."

Oh this will be fun.

Kate shakes her hair out and begins to fiddle with her blouse.

"Like this?" she teases, biting her lip.

Joey seems taken aback. A little breathlessly he murmurs "Yeah."

She pops the top button of her shirt open. "You like that?" she asks huskily.

"Yeah." He leans into the table, pressing his chest against it, as if the hard edge will somehow decrease his arousal.

She plays with another button on her blouse, bats her eyelashes at him. Classic. "You wanna see more?"

"Oh God yes," comes his strained reply.

Kate smiles, trails her hand down around her neck and over her chest, watches as Joey's eyes follow her every move.

Finally she pops the button, giving him a glimpse at the black lingerie underneath.

"Should I unbutton more?"

"Yeah."

"Did you kill Claire?" she asks seductively, winks at him.

"Yeah."

Idiot.

She buttons her shirt back up and crosses her arms.

"Was that a confession?"

It takes a moment, but Joey finally figures it out. "What- no- wait- you fucking bitch! You tricked me! Yeah, I fucking slit her throat. And I'm gonna do the same to you and everyone you know. I'll take my time with your mommy. I bet she's a whore too."

That strikes a nerve. All of the control Beckett had now shatters.

The synapses in her brain light up like fireworks, overloading her mind with an overwhelming sense of hatred and anger.

"What?" Her tone is deadly serious, the calm before the storm.

* * *

**A/N: **Cappuccino Flats are my all-time favorite Christmas cookie and they will be making more appearances in this story. If you'd like the recipe, just ask me in the reviews and I'll send it to you. Or you can PM me. :)

_You can follow me on Twitter at MissRainbowPie._


	3. Snap

**A/N: **Thank you for all of the follows, favorites, and reviews! It means a lot. And thank you for the concern regarding my brother. I am happy to say that he's doing a lot better. He just got married to a wonderful woman, he now has three amazing step-sons, and he's finishing up his degree. Strongest man I know! One of the many reasons I joined the military was to follow in his footsteps. He is my role model and I love him dearly.

* * *

_November 30, 2011_

* * *

"I said your mommy's a whore."

Kate clenches her teeth in an attempt to control her temper and when Joey sees the murderous look on her face, he smirks.

"Oh. _W__as_ a whore. Your mommy's dead, ain't she?"

She is not going to react, absolutely not going to give him the satisfaction of a response.

"Was her throat slit too? Or did your daddy stab her with a kitchen knife after he caught her screwing the mailman?"

She grits her teeth, digs her nails into her palms, pushes her feet into the ground, tries so hard to keep herself rooted to the spot, to not move.

Joey leans back in his chair, smugly tilting the front legs up off the ground. "I think your mommy deserved to die. She was a whore, just like Claire was. I wish I could have been the one to kill her. If only she were alive today... I would love to slit her throat with my knife. Blood would run down her neck and over my hands and you know what I would do? I would throw her out with the trash and smile. I would smile in the satisfaction of knowing that I killed your precious mommy."

That is the last straw and Beckett snaps. She explodes out of her seat and draws her gun simultaneously. She rips Joey from his chair and slams him against the wall, pushing the gun right up under his chin. In the close proximity, the stench of his Axe cologne washes over her in waves.

"My mom wasn't a whore," she chokes out, tears filling her eyes. She blinks furiously, pushes the gun even harder into the bastard's tender skin. "She was not a whore."

Kate sees a glimmer of fear cross Joey's face. Good. He should be scared. She's at the end of her rope. Her finger hovers above the trigger. There are live rounds in her gun. It would only take a fraction of a second to end this murderer's life forever. He's a disgusting scumbag. The lowest of the low. He doesn't deserve to live.

A little voice in the back of her mind tells her to stop. She knows she shouldn't be doing this. She needs to stop. But she can't. This son-of-a-bitch represents everything that is wrong with the world.

Kate's finger twitches on the trigger, lightly tapping it as Joey cowers beneath her, his tough exterior crumbling with every passing second.

She almost pulls the trigger.

"Beckett! Stop!"

_Why should I?_

She turns her head sharply and glares at the intruder. Castle. How dare he disturb her interrogation? He inches toward her, hands held out in a non-threatening manner.

"Come on, Kate. He's not worth it."

She feels her resolve fading away. Her partner's right. He's not worth it.

"This isn't you, Kate. Put the gun down."

A tear slips down her cheek and she moves her finger off the trigger. Her lack of sleep finally catches up with her. Something in her brain broke last night and made her like this. It's not her. She doesn't want to be like this. As much as she doesn't want to believe it, she's broken. Her hand trembles.

Castle takes another step and puts a comforting hand on her arm.

"Put the gun down."

And she does. She breathes a sigh of relief and re-holsters her weapon, once again regaining a sense of normalcy.

"That's it," Castle murmurs. She leans into the strength of his hand, using it as a lifeline back to reality.

"I guess _someone_ can't follow through with their threats," Joey says. His Hispanic accent burrows its way beneath her skin and lingers there, the echoes taunting her.

Castle's hand tightens on her arm, but his subtle warning is too late.

She lunges forward, grabs Joey by the shoulder, spins him around, and slams his head into the wall. He cries out in pain and she moves to slam his head once more, addicted to the sound of his agony.

"Kate!"

Castle tackles her and suddenly she's on the ground with his heavy weight on top of her, soft grass beneath her body, and a searing pain in her chest that spreads through her veins like poison.

"Stay with me, Kate. Don't leave me."

Pain overloads her senses and she can't move. Every breath is a struggle as the sun blinds her eyes. She focuses on the blurry silhouette of Castle's form above her. Somewhere amidst the pain, she thinks she feels a tear sliding down her face.

Screams.

Blood rushing past her ears.

Her heart pounding against her ribcage. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.

Finally, his voice cuts through the unbearable noise. "I love you. I love you, Kate."

Then silence.

Blackness.

Death.

* * *

"Kate?"

Castle kneels with one leg between hers, keeps his balance by placing a hand beside her fallen body.

She was there for a moment, he could see it. Her bloodshot eyes were wide open with shock and he could swear he saw yet another tear slip from her eye. But then her eyelids fluttered shut.

They're closed and he doesn't know what to do.

He shakes her lightly. "Kate?"

Her eyes remain closed.

He knew he shouldn't have tackled her, but what was he supposed to do? She was going to kill their suspect. Or if not kill, then maim. He had to think fast.

What if he injured her? What if she hit her head when they fell to the hard tile?

_What if I killed her?_

He starts to hyperventilate and quickly puts two fingers against her carotid artery. There isn't a pulse. Jesus, he's never been good at this; he can barely find his own pulse. Tremors overtake his body and he presses harder, concentrates all of his efforts on finding her heartbeat. Finally, finally, finally, he feels it, strong against his fingers. He breathes out a shaky sigh of relief. Thank God.

His relief doesn't last long though as he feels Joey's warm breath on his neck. "Did you kill her?" the gang-banger whispers. Castle doesn't need to turn around to know that Joey is simpering with glee.

"Shut up," he says quietly, an undercurrent of anger rapidly rising to the surface.

Joey kneels down, puts his tattooed hand on Castle's shoulder. His eyes are inches from the writer's face. Blood still drips from his nose. "You know, I didn't quite hear you. What did you say?"

Castle can stand Joey's merciless grin no longer. "I said shut up!" He pushes back on the suspect's chest and knocks him to the floor. Joey laughs, satisfied at having garnered a reaction from the writer. Castle can understand why Kate attacked him. The guy has a way of getting under your skin.

Suddenly the door to the interrogation room is slammed open with a loud bang and Captain Gates storms in. "What the hell is going on here?" She glares at Castle like she always does, like everything is his fault.

"Uh, Captain Gates... Sir..." Castle trails off. He's still not entirely sure what happened and he doesn't want to incriminate Kate when she isn't even awake to defend herself.

Fortunately he doesn't have to continue as Gates sees Beckett lying motionless on the ground beneath him. Her voice softens. "Is Detective Beckett alright?"

"He killed her," Joey says instantly.

Castle rolls his eyes. "She's fine, I think. Just unconscious..."

"And why, dare I ask, is she unconscious?"

"She's not," comes Kate's voice. Castle's head snaps down to see his partner's face aglow with new-found consciousness. He grins down at her and runs a hand over her face. She's alive and okay and safe and smiling up at him with the most beautiful smile he's ever seen. To say that he is overjoyed would be an understatement. He has to fight the urge to kiss her forehead.

She continues to smile back at him for a moment more, but then her expression turns cold.

"Castle, get off me," she spits out, her tone venomous.

He doesn't move, startled by her sudden change of demeanor, so she grips his shoulders and shoves him out of the way. She stands up and faces Gates. Castle is bewildered by her reaction. He can't understand what changed. Is she mad that he stopped her from hurting Joey? Or maybe she's just tired. The circles under her eyes seem to have gotten darker over the past few minutes. Kate crosses her arms, a defense mechanism to protect herself from Iron Gates' impending lecture.

"Is someone going to explain what's going on?" the Captain asks.

Joey stands up tall and straightens his disheveled shirt. He points at Beckett. "This bitch attacked me! And I think she broke my nose." He emphasizes his point by moaning and wiping blood from his upper lip. "Then this dude," Joey waves a hand in Castle's direction, "this dude tackled her like a linebacker!"

"Is this true?"

Kate grimaces, then looks her straight in the eye and says, "Yes, sir."

Castle finally rises from the floor and stands by Kate's side. Despite the fact that she snapped at him, he doesn't harbor any ill will. He will always defend her, even if she won't defend herself. "But Joey confessed to Claire's murder! It's not like he didn't deserve it."

"Hey!" Joey interjects.

"It is not our job to punish the guilty, Mr. Castle," Gates says, ignoring Joey's outburst. She turns to Beckett. "My office. Now."

Kate follows her out of the interrogation room without a single glance back at Castle. He watches her leave, knowing implicitly that Gates did not intend for him to come with.

Now alone with Joey, he closes his eyes, searching for a moment of clarity. It doesn't come.

"Ooh your girlfriend's in trouble now!"

"Shut up!"

* * *

**A/N: **I apologize for the delay in posting. I wanted to post this yesterday, but life happened. I also wanted this chapter to be over 2000 words, but alas, that didn't happen either. Oh well... Happy _Castle_ Monday! What did you all think of "Dreamworld"?

_You can follow me on Twitter at MissRainbowPie._


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